Tangled Web
by Helga Von Nutwimple
Summary: When Drusilla is sucked into Acathla's hell along with Angelus, Spike and Buffy must maintain their reluctant partnership to rescue their respective loves.
1. Happy Meals

"Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte..."  
  
Oz raised his eyebrows in Cordelia's direction. "Is this a good thing?"  
  
"Nici mort, nici al fiintei..."

* * *

"Sorry, baby," Spike murmured, lifting Drusilla into his arms. "Wish there was another way..."  
  
Right. Got Dru. Now down to the DeSoto, get the hell out of Sunnydale, and then...  
  
Oh, _bollocks_.  
  
Behind the big rock, a vortex was forming... swirly, red, and leading right into that burny warm place he _really _wasn't ready to go yet. A glance through the archway revealed that the Slayer had been disarmed, with a very unfriendly-looking Angelus advancing on her with a sword.  
  
"God," Spike swore, "He's gonna kill her..."  
  
He looked at the vortex. Looked at the Slayer. Looked at Angelus. Sighed heavily.  
  
"Sit tight, Dru," he muttered, laying her unconscious form down against the wall and picking up the Slayer's sword. "Gotta go save the bloody Happy Meals..."  
  
"Oi! Angelus!" Spike called, striding into the atrium. "Age before beauty, right? Been waitin' a long time to kick your ass... what's say we get Oedipal?"  
  
Angelus chuckled. "You can't kill me, Spike..."  
  
"Have a hell of a lot of fun tryin' though, won't I? C'mon, Big Bad. Unless all that loooove you're just filled with's made you so soft you'd rather snog the Slayer..."  
  
Angelus growled, his brow ridging.  
  
"Can't say as I blame you, mate. _Tasty_ little thing, ain't she? All perky and tan... mmm-_mmm_." Spike curled his tongue beneath his teeth, smirking at Angelus. "Y'know? Maybe I won't kill my third Slayer after all. Might keep _that_ one around. Put my Claim on her, yeah? Bet she's a _tigress_ in the sack... not, of course, that _you'd_ care..."  
  
"You wouldn't _dare_."  
  
Spike fluttered his eyelashes innocently. "Oh, _Angel_, am I... pissin' you off?"  
  
Angelus raised his sword. "We finish this _now_."  
  
They circled each other, swords flashing in the moonlight.  
  
"Gonna kill me, Peaches? Like you killed dear ol' Darla? An' I really thought you liked her. Gee _whiz_, haven't _you_ got the bad track record with the blondes?"  
  
"You're not a real blonde," Angelus smirked.  
  
"You're right. Can't _wait_ to find out if Buffy's one..."  
  
Angelus roared, slipping into game face and lunging at Spike. The met in a swirl of flashing silver and flying leather, Spike laughing in glee, Angelus snarling in fury. Spike raised his sword for a blow...  
  
When the flying figures of Drusilla and Buffy attacked them both.  
  
"Dru! Bloody -- gerroff! _Slayer!_ Little bit of help here?"  
  
"Kinda..." Punch! "Busy..." Punch! "Here..." Punch!

* * *

"Hey!" Cordelia whimpered. "Speak English!"  
  
"Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul la el..."  
  
"She's acting like a _freak_! How do we even know this is going to work?"  
  
"Does it _look_ like it's not working?"

* * *

Spike lunged for Drusilla, wrapping his arm around her waist, trying to get a hold on her neck as Buffy snap-kicked Angelus in the face, sending him staggering back towards Acathla. Buffy grabbed Angelus' wrist, twisting it violently, sending his sword clattering to the floor as Drusilla clawed into Spike's arm, screeching and twisting, finally wrapping her hands around his forearm and _snapping_...  
  
"Bloody _bitch_!" Spike screamed as Drusilla burst from his arms, lunging towards Angel, wrapping her arms around him...  
  
As Buffy drove Angelus' sword through them both.

* * *

"Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie! Acum!"

* * *

The vortex flashed, looming ever larger. Buffy stumbled backwards from the light, Angelus and Drusilla both frozen in place.  
  
"Dru!" Spike bellowed, shoving past Buffy to lunge for her...  
  
Before dropping to his knees, screaming.

* * *

"Acum!"  
  
The Orb began to glow, light flaring through the hospital room...

* * *

White light streamed from Spike's eyes as his screams grew louder...  
  
And Angelus and Drusilla disappeared into the vortex.


	2. Poncy Git

Buffy blinked as vision slowly returned, staring blankly at the place where Angelus, Drusilla, and the hell-portal had all disappeared.  
  
"Angel," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Oh, God..."  
  
The sword clattered from her hand as she stepped back, her grief-numbed brain trying to focus. She'd sent Angelus to hell. Her mother had kicked her out of the house. Jenny was dead, Giles had been tortured, Willow was in the hospital...  
  
A low moan of pain from off to her right.  
  
And now she had to deal with the bleached menace.  
  
"Your ho-bag girlfriend caught a ride to Hell, Spike," Buffy spat. "I'm sure it's very sad for you. Now get the hell out of my town before I remember that I don't make deals with vampires."  
  
No answer except another moan. Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh, _please_. She just broke your arm. You probably get worse injuries snacking on orphanages. Get up." She kicked him lightly in the thigh. "Stop being such a baby."  
  
"Where am I?" Spike asked quietly. "Where is this place?"  
  
"Knock it off with the face accent, Spike. I'm in a _really_ bad mood and I don't have time for your crap, okay?"  
  
"You're... you're not that raven-haired woman..." Spike turned terrified, confused eyes on Buffy. "Where... this isn't the alley. Have I been accosted? I don't... I think she... I think she _bit_ me..."  
  
Spike broke off, staring into space with dawning horror. "Oh, no. Oh _God_ no..."  
  
She took a step forward. "Spike? Did Drusilla do some kind of craziness transfer or what?"  
  
"Bloody hell, Slayer," Spike muttered, his voice returning to normal, "What the..."  
  
"Spike, you have five seconds to tell me what's wrong with you before your appointment with Mr. Pointy. 5... 4... 3..."  
  
"Kill me," Spike begged, the upper-crust accent returning again. "If you have the power to, I beg you to kill me. I've become... oh God. I can't even articulate the horror. If Mother..."  
  
More awareness swam in Spike's eyes, and he let out a keening wail, dissolving into sobs. "Oh, God, Mother... Mother, I'm so sorry... so sorry..."  
  
"Quit your whingin', you poncy git," Spike added, his voice going through another abrupt change. "He's right, Slayer, stake us. Better dust than havin' to live like that bastard Angel..."  
  
"Live like..." Buffy's breath caught. "Oh my God... you're not..."  
  
"An' here I thought you _weren't_ as stupid as you looked. Stuffed the flamin' poof back in me!" Spike struggled to his feet, duster dragging. "An' he's not bloody well stayin', either. Whatever you did, you can just undo it."  
  
And then he burst into manic tears again.  
  
"She cursed the wrong vampire," Buffy gasped.  
  
"Oh, and what," Spike sneered, "I'll be walkin' around with _this_ git in my head until I knock boots with _you_? Bloody well put a stake in me."  
  
"How _dare_ you speak to the lady in such a crude manner!" he added a moment later.  
  
Spike whipped his head around, leering. "On second thought, Slayer, he's really pissin' me off. Take off your knickers."  
  
If he had any further comments, they were halted by Buffy's fist in his face.

* * *

She should just stake him.  
  
He was unconscious, he was helpless. He'd even asked her to. As many times as he'd tried to kill her, she'd be an idiot not to.  
  
And he'd stolen the curse meant for Angel.  
  
Which meant he had a soul.  
  
Could she kill a vampire with a soul? Would it make him like Angel? Or would he have to spend a century eating rats first?  
  
Buffy sat down heavily next to Spike's crumpled body, hugging her knees, thoughts of Angel and Giles and Willow and Xander and Jenny and her mom whirling in a kaleidoscope in her brain.  
  
Don't. Don't. You're the Slayer. Problem right in front of you. Focus on that.  
  
Hadn't Angel said the soul had made him kind of crazy? Dealing with the remorse of all the horrible things he'd done?  
  
So... _crazy_ souled vampire who wanted to kill her.  
  
Crazy souled vampire who wanted to kill her... waking up.  
  
Buffy clutched her stake tighter, rising to her feet.  
  
"Slayer," Spike croaked, his hand trailing through the dust to rub his jaw. "Don't dust me. Not yet."  
  
"You have no idea how good this reason's gonna have to be," Buffy spat.  
  
"I can get them back."  
  
Buffy lowered the stake a little. "Keep talking."  
  
"Angelus n' Dru. I can get 'em back. M'not leavin' Dru in Hell, Slayer, even if I have to kill you _and_ bring that right bastard back with her."  
  
"You're really not in any position to talk about killing me, Spike."  
  
"There's ways..." Spike coughed, sending dust skittering across the floor. "There's spells. I'd need your help, Slayer. But we could get 'em back. You could curse up ol' Angelus and get your boyfriend back, an' I'd have Dru again."  
  
"And your soul?" Buffy challenged.  
  
"Slayer, if gettin' my Princess back from hell isn't a 'moment of perfect happiness', I don't know what would be."  
  
"You seem... deceptively sane..."  
  
"Don't get used to it," he groaned, rising on an elbow. "Little bugger's screamin' in here. We worked together, didn't we? Saved the world n' all that rot? Can't you just..."  
  
Spike winced in pain, shaking his head. "I can get 'em back, Slayer. Believe me. Don't you want Angel back?"  
  
"More than anything," Buffy whispered.  
  
"Then let's do this. You n' me. We'll get 'em back, we'll both get what we want, and you n' I'll never have to see each other again, I bloody well hope."  
  
"You can really get Angel back?"  
  
"Look, pet, if I didn't think I could bring Dru back, would I still bloody _be_ here? I'm not a total idiot. Historically speakin', injured me plus Slayer with pointy equals Spike takin' a big ol' scamper an' comin' back to fight another day... or didn't you notice?"  
  
"I noticed."  
  
"Right, then. Are you with me on this?"  
  
"If this is a trick..."  
  
Spike sighed. "Look, Slayer. Tell you what. Why don't we go upstairs, an' you can chain me up. For both our sakes, since the ponce's got a death wish. Get your Watcher on it..."

"Giles is _so_ not gonna want to help you."  
  
"I'm the reason the wanker isn't chainsawed to bits!"  
  
"Yeah, uh-huh. 'Hey, Giles! Half the Scourge of Europe's been zapped out of this dimension! You remember them, right? The crazy lady and the one who killed your girlfriend? Wanna help me bring them back?' I'm sure he'll be right over with his helping hat on."  
  
"What about your mum? She seemed a bit of all right..." Spike froze as tears sprang to Buffy's eyes. "What the hell'd I say?"  
  
"Chain you up," Buffy said fiercely, scrubbing at her eyes with her wrists. "I am all over that. Where can I find some chains?"  
  
Spike's face turned sour. "Are you kiddin', Slayer? _Angelus_ and _Dru_ live here. There's chains bloody everywhere. Pick a bed. Any bed."  
  
The color seeped from Buffy's face. "I... I don't want to know, do I?"  
  
"Try bein' trapped in a bloody wheelchair an' havin' to listen to it," Spike spat.  
  
"Can you walk?"  
  
Spike pushed himself up with his unbroken arm, rising to his feet. "Looks like it, yeah. Slayer... do we have a deal?"  
  
Buffy sighed deeply, her head sagging. "Yeah. We have a deal."


End file.
